Summer Dark
by Cora Clavia
Summary: Kate stumbles across a secret - no wonder he'd been so angry at her after she'd avoided him all summer - and reason comes from an unlikely source.  Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Summer Dark**

**Summary:** Kate stumbles across a secret. No wonder he'd been so angry at her after she'd avoided him all summer.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> K+, pretty tame  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I do not own _Castle_. I am just borrowing these characters for entertainment.

(I don't really know where this came from. It just did.)

* * *

><p>Saturday morning, a day off. With a job that had Kate up by 6 every day, she rarely slept in past 10. So today 9:30 found her sipping coffee and browsing the shelves at her favorite bookstore.<p>

She traced her first finger over the spines of the books. Hmm. She didn't normally look through poetry, but her usual crime novels just weren't looking interesting today. And the poetry volumes were lovely. Rich leather covers, gold-edged pages. The smell of literature.

Kate had walked in from the opposite side, so she followed the authors' names backwards down the shelves. Yeats. Teasdale. Shakespeare, of course. Poe. Keats. Dickinson. Beckett.

Beckett? Huh. She'd never realized she had a distant cousin in poetry.

She couldn't help but chuckle, pulling the book out to take a closer look. So…Alexander Beckett. Cousin Alex. A poet, are you? Hmm. _Summer Dark._ Pretty title. The book was pretty too, a small, slim volume with a plain cover, deep blue, silver lettering.

Well, she was intrigued now. She found the nearest comfy chair and sat down to read whatever Mr. Beckett had written. Flipping idly, she ended up somewhere in the middle of the book.

_Sometimes I wish_

_you would forget me_

_(I can never forget you)_

_you might be happy_

_your eyes might brighten_

_even if I couldn't see them_

_ (I'd never forget to remember you)_

Sad, but sweet. She flipped a few more pages.

_Beside the ocean_

_They say the horizon never ends_

_ (it's not true)_

_it disappears every night_

_and without you_

_ nothing is forever_

_ and there is no always_

Her face got solemn as she kept reading. Something wasn't right. This was…something…it felt oddly familiar. But she'd never seen this book before.

She turned the page.

_I carry you with me always_

_in every breeze I hear your sigh_

_in every star I see your eyes_

_in every breath I taste your mouth_

_you fill me to bursting_

_ because_

_when you took my heart_

_you gave me so much more_

_in its place_

No…

_The moment your heart stopped_

_was the moment mine bled_

_and the day you came back to life_

_was the day life came back to me_

_(and each day you spend without me_

_is a day I would give back)_

_- and the day you learn to love me_

_will be the only one I will ever, ever need_

…Impossible…

_You don't remember_

_but I still think you know, love_

Oh. Oh –

_I left because you told me to go_

_ but the best of me stayed with you_

Her heart started pounding. Her mouth was dry. It couldn't be. It was impossible.

…Alexander Beckett.

(He wouldn't have published this under his own name.)

But Alexander _Beckett – _

Still unwilling to admit it to herself, she flipped back to the title page, turning it over to find the dedication.

_I hope you read this someday_

_when you're ready to know_

_that I will love you_

_always__._

Her hand went to her mouth, her eyes stinging. It couldn't be a coincidence. _Always_. _When you're ready to know that I will love you_.

Beckett.

Alexander.

It took her a few minutes before she calmed down enough to wipe her eyes, stand up, and take the book to the register.

* * *

><p>Back at her apartment, she curled up on the couch, looked over the little book. Examined it like a piece of evidence. Everything fit. It was a new book, just out this fall. Published by a small press called Blue Thorn, the more highbrow literary sister to the mainstream publisher Black Pawn.<p>

It all made sense. A publishing company he had ties to. And it came out just this fall. After summer. The summer when she avoided him, ignored his calls, let him wander the precinct and the city without her, with no word, no clue that she was thinking of him. Missing him. Knowing he loved her.

Oh, Castle.

No wonder he was angry at her that day at the book signing. If this book was any indication, his summer was even more miserable than he'd let on.

Kate stared at the book in her lap, twisting her hands. She _couldn't_ tell him this. Not when she already knew. Not when she was still reeling. Not when every time he walked in and said _Good morning_, all she could think was _he loves me. He _loves _me. And I don't deserve him._

But she had to know.

There weren't many options.

So she picked up her phone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Thank you for meeting me, Martha."

The older woman slid into the booth across from Kate, signalling the waiter for coffee. "Of course, dear. I admit, I was a little worried when you called. You said not to mention it to Richard or Alexis?"

"Yes. It's not – it's not bad news, though. I just wasn't sure who to talk to." Kate pulled _Summer Dark_ out and set it down on the table between them. Her choices had been Martha and Alexis. And she didn't want to burden the girl with this kind of drama. "It's – this."

"Oh." Martha's face grew serious at the sight of the little book, but she didn't look surprised. "So this is what you meant."

"You can't tell me you didn't know about this."

"Of course I knew about it. I watched him write it."

Kate took a deep breath. Not that she'd had doubts – after all, there was no other possible author – but to hear Martha say it so matter-of-factly still made her shiver a little. _Castle wrote this book. Thinking of me._ "Why? Why'd he write it?"

Martha let out a little laugh. "I think you've probably already figured out that answer for yourself, Kate. Or you wouldn't have asked me to come here."

Kate flushed. Because it was true. "I can't get much past you, can I?"

"Not where Richard is concerned." Martha eyed her carefully, then seemed to decide something. "Now obviously, you heard none of this from me."

"Not a word."

Martha nodded, satisfied. "All right. You already know he was a mess when you got shot, Kate. I've never in my life seen him so broken. But you were alive. And he missed you, but I think it helped him, knowing you were healing."

"What happened?"

"He got kicked out of the police station." Martha paused to sip her coffee. "And – forgive me for being blunt – you wouldn't talk to him. You disappeared. In a way, you were gone all over again. The police station was his last connection to you. And when that disappeared too, it was like he was finally grieving for you. We went out to the beach, and it was pleasant, but Richard was like a ghost." She shook her head. "He wasn't sleeping. He wasn't eating well. He would spend _hours_ poring over his old notes for Nikki Heat. And then he shut himself into his room and started writing again, but it wasn't Nikki Heat this time."

"The poetry."

Martha nodded. "For a week, he wrote nothing but this. And after that, it was odd – but it was like he'd purged himself. He was still quiet, still rather sad, but he seemed more peaceful. I think this little book – " she tapped the cover with one finger – "did something for him. It helped him."

Kate looked down at _Summer Dark_. Castle's confessions. Castle's… heart. "Have you – you've read it?"

"Of course. I read everything he writes."

"Then you – " Kate couldn't help but falter for a moment here – "you read the – the dedication?"

Martha smiled gently. "Oh, yes. I was wondering how you'd feel about that." Kate blushed and looked down. She didn't know what to say. "Oh, come now, Kate. You can't tell me you never suspected."

Kate looked up, a little surprised, but found Martha watching her with a look that was…warm. Gentle.

And suddenly she realized that Martha _wanted_ her to be with Castle.

Martha treated her like a _daughter_.

The thought brought a lump to her throat. Because she hadn't had a mother in twelve years.

Kate swallowed the sudden tightness – and the way Martha was watching her, it didn't escape her notice – but gave in. "I knew. I think – I've probably known longer than I even realized."

"The dedication was the last thing he wrote. And I can tell you, he spent two days writing it and nothing else. He went through it over and over, trying to get it just right."

Kate couldn't help but smile. Only Castle. "He did."

"He writes well when it's for you, Kate." Martha reached for Kate's hand, squeezed it gently. "How did you find this book, anyway?"

"Completely by accident. I just ran across it at the bookstore."

"Hmm." Martha chuckled. "That's funny, you know. I think you're one of maybe a hundred people who read it. It's the worst-selling book he's ever written." Kate blinked. "It's true, dear. Poetry doesn't sell like crime novels do. And this book, in particular, got awful reviews."

Kate was struck with a sudden rush of indignation. "What? How?"

"Well, I can see you disagree with them. But poetry isn't his genre. And the reviewers generally panned it as uninventive, trite, you know. Everything you'd expect from the smarter-than-thou _New Yorker_ crowd."

"Oh – " Kate looked back down at _Summer Dark_, her heart swelling with protectiveness. Poor Castle. To pour out his heart, thinking he'd lost her yet again, and then to get slapped in the face by self-righteous, pretentious –

"You can keep the gun holstered, Detective," Martha chuckled drily. "He didn't read them. I was surprised, because normally he scours the internet for articles – but once he sweet-talked and bribed it into press, and it got a printing, he simply didn't read anything about it. Told Blue Thorn he didn't want to see reviews, and any profit was to be put into charities for families of fallen police officers. He's not at all concerned with what other people think of this book. He wrote it for you. And _only_ for you."

"Oh."

Kate didn't have any words that could express it. Knowing he wrote this book, this sweet, aching, painful book for her. Nikki Heat was about the way that he'd fallen in love with her. _Summer Dark_ was about the way that she'd broken his heart.

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat that just wasn't seeming to go away.

"Kate, dear, I'm going to exercise my parental right to say whatever I want – " that made Kate laugh – "I like you. You're a remarkable woman. You're a wonderful role model for my granddaughter. And you've brought so much to my son's life. That man would climb mountains for you. And you'll think me intrusive, but I love my son. He was miserable this summer. Your feelings are your own, of course. But you know how he feels. I want him to be happy. And I want _you_ to be happy."

Kate twisted her coffee cup in her hands, suddenly shy, because she hadn't had a cheerleader like this in a long, long time. "Martha, I don't think I deserve him."

"_That_ is utter nonsense, and you get it right out of your head. You are an incredible woman, and if I had a daughter, Kate, I should be so lucky to have one like you."

Kate's eyes stung for a second. Martha made her miss her mother. So much. "What should I do?"

"That's completely up to you," Martha shrugged. "You have my word, I won't mention a bit of this to Richard. It's your call. After all, it's technically your book."

Kate swallowed, looking back down. _Summer Dark_. Beckett's book. Castle's pain in verse. "Martha, why did he use my name?"

Martha smiled sagely. "Probably the same reason he wrote it in the first place." She set money down on the table beside her empty coffee cup, standing and pulling her coat on. "I'm glad you called, Kate. You know I only want the best for you both." Kate nodded, not sure what else to say.

Martha gathered her purse and stood tall and elegant for a moment, a picture of poise and style, and pursed her lips in thought. "Kate. You think you don't deserve him? That's not true. You just have to be brave enough to admit you want him in the first place."

She squeezed Kate's hand with a warm smile and left.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

That night, Kate found herself in a hot bath reading _Summer Dark_. She'd lost count of how many times she'd read through it. She couldn't stop herself. Every time she read it, she saw more, heard his voice, saw an angle she hadn't previously found. He unfolded in her mind, a vivid picture of him in a dark, quiet beach house, lonely and lovesick and desperate, and her throat ached with the pain and beauty of it all.

He must have written straight through from beginning to end, because she could trace him through it. The first poems were angry, desperate, frustrated. They made her throat tighten and she didn't want to read them but she had to. Because she did this to him.

But later his words got softer. He got calmer. The anger melted. All that remained was love.

_I kissed you_

_(silver stars hot flush sudden shock oh God lips tongue)_

_once_

_(you fit in my arms)_

_just then_

_(your body fits mine)_

_you stole my breath and gave me yours_

_(I'll never breathe again without tasting you)_

_But let Beauty beware_

_because when I kiss you again_

_it'll be for keeps_

They all made her heart twist in her chest, clench tight, and she just couldn't breathe normally. But there was one that made her flush. Not that she didn't know how he felt, but – to read it on paper – to think of him imagining it –

_You've never been mine_

_I've never touched you_

_made you shiver_

_watched you blush_

_made you beg_

_made you gasp_

_(I think of you too much and not enough)_

_But I would be yours_

_and I want to have you_

_(all of you)_

_against me, hot and desperate_

_and feel you dissolve into me_

_and watch your eyes roll back_

_and finally watch you sleep because_

_I don't want anything but all of you_

There was one she couldn't think about too much. She just – she just couldn't.

_I want all of you_

_everything_

_forever_

_and ever_

_and I want to be yours_

_(for as long_

_as we both_

_shall live_)

Tracing the progression through the book was one thing. But the ending? He didn't bother hiding anything by the time he was done. He'd figured no one would read it anyway. She knew he'd lost any inhibition by the time he'd written the ending. He'd had nothing to conceal.

On the last two pages, words were sparse. He didn't have much left to say.

On the first:

_She will bring him good, and not evil, all the days of her life.  
>Proverbs 31:12<em>

And the last was from him again, a single line:

_I love you._

Typical Castle. Blunt and straightforward and a hell of a lot braver than she was.

After she climbed out of the bathtub, she got ready for bed, keeping the book in her line of sight the whole time even as she rolled her eyes at her own patheticness. _Kate. Coward. He said he loved you and you can't even admit you heard him say it._

She'd never said the words aloud, even to herself, but Kate had long ago silently accepted that she couldn't say she didn't love Richard Castle more than she'd ever loved anyone.

She curled up in bed, reading the last few pages one last time (all right, three or four more times), unable to stop the fluttery whirl of butterflies that hit her stomach as she read him telling her he wanted to marry her. Castle. He knew how to write. He'd written her a whole book of love letters, even after she broke his heart.

She set the book aside (finally) and hesitated, but finally picked up her phone. She'd found the book less than twenty-four hours ago, but right now she couldn't think about anything else.

Tomorrow was Sunday; she was on call but didn't have to go in unless there was a case.

So after a long moment of pretending she shouldn't, she sent Castle a text. _If you're not busy tomorrow, you want to get some lunch?_

The response was as quick as always. _Your willing slave, Detective. Tell me where and when._

She bit her lip, the smile on her face refusing to fade. Because nothing had really changed. He was still going to follow her around and make idiotic comments to make her laugh. She was still going to roll her eyes at him. And he was still going to look at her with love in his eyes. Because he'd been doing that for a long time.

…maybe she could start by not looking away.


	4. Chapter 4

So remember how all through our childhoods, everyone taught us to resist peer pressure, stand up for yourself? Yeah. I failed at that. So yep, more chapters. The story's not over.

…and you guys are awesomely awesome…

…now on with the story.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Castle's surprised but delighted to get her text Saturday night. Normally her day off from work means a day off from him. But this? Kate seeking him out? Voluntarily inviting him to join her?

He'd cancel dinner with the president, the pope, the Dalai Lama, Shakespeare and Aristotle for this.

* * *

><p>She laughs a lot at lunch on Sunday. More than she normally does. With her sparkling eyes, the lightness in her face, he can't help but feel warm and peaceful.<p>

As they go to leave, he instinctively puts a hand to her back as she walks through the door. And she doesn't seem to mind. His heart does a little flip. He's even more hopeful than usual today.

* * *

><p>Monday morning, he makes his customary approach to her desk – he's mentally dubbed it the Altar Of Beckett, though he doesn't think she'll appreciate the title so he's never mentioned it – to lay down his morning libations of caffeine and sugar. "Good morning, Beckett."<p>

She's reading something intently, not even seeing him until he speaks, but when she looks up, his breath catches in his throat. She _smiles_. Normally she offers him a half-smile, a twitch of the eyebrow, an off-the-cuff _Thanks_ and moves on. But today she _beams_. Her whole face lights up. Like he's the one thing she was waiting to see. Like she'd be just as happy to see him if he weren't holding coffee. Like she couldn't possibly want anything else. And he desperately, desperately wants her to look at him like that again.

_every day for the rest of my life_

Her fingers brush his as she takes the cup he hands her, and to his delight, her smile doesn't fade. "Thank you, Castle."

He goes to sit in his chair, but misses a little bit because he can't stop looking at her (because _God_, she's gorgeous when she smiles) and bumps the armrest as he sits. Her eyes sparkle a little, but she doesn't make fun of him. He half-wishes she would, but he didn't really have much brain power to spare right now because she's just so utterly dazzling, and when she's looking at him with this adoring, glowing look that he utterly does not deserve, it's really all he can do to form a complete sentence. "You're in a good mood this morning."

There's a secret in her eyes, something dancing just beyond what he can see, but her lips curve into that mysterious smile that doesn't answer questions, just gives him new ones.

"Yeah. I am."

_Dazzle me, Beauty –_

_you don't even have to try_

* * *

><p>It's a month or so later that Castle walks in one morning with the usual coffee and two cinnamon rolls.<p>

She takes the coffee with the same beautiful smile – he's seen it every day this week, just like last week, but every time he sees it he swears it's even more dazzling – and quirks an eyebrow at the pastry he hands her. "This is new."

"They didn't have bear claws. I'm sorry. I pleaded. Please forgive my failure to nourish you properly."

She bites her lip, laughing, and he just can't help but laugh with her, because Kate Beckett glowing in the light of morning is something he's not prepared to resist. Never has been. Never will be.

"I'll let it go this time," she tells him archly, her eyes dancing as she sets down her coffee and pulls off a piece, popping it in her mouth, licking icing off her finger. "Actually, I might change my preference permanently. This is very good. Thank you."

"Don't thank me too much. I got one for me, too."

She laughs and he takes a bite – he loves bear claws because she loves them, but she's right, this might be better. It's messy, though, since it's still warm, and even with a napkin, he can tell he's getting icing all over himself (not that he minds her chuckling at him; he wants her to laugh more).

And before he realizes it's happening, she reaches up to wipe the icing off his face. Her thumb grazes his lower lip, but what makes his heart stutter for a moment is the fact that she _lingers_. Her thumb pauses on his lip, warm and soft, and the way she's looking at him, her eyes so bright, her lips parted –

He swallows, afraid to even blink, unwilling to look away, mesmerized by the solemn, wondering look in her eyes, somewhere between green and golden and he thinks maybe if he keeps looking he'll figure out which color they really are but even if he doesn't it's okay because he just can't stop looking at her and she's _touching_ him –

She lets him go, eyes still locked with his, and something in him snaps. He catches her wrist, bringing her hand back to him, and slowly captures her thumb with his teeth, sucking the icing off her soft skin.

Her eyes go wide, her lips parted, her breathing coming faster. But she doesn't pull away. She doesn't tug her hand back.

He watches, fascinated, as a pink blush spreads over her cheeks, her hand still in his, her delicate wrist poised between his fingers, warm and expectant. She bites her lip – he can't look away because _he_ wants to be the one biting her lip – but her eyes are still smiling.

Of course Ryan chooses that moment to walk over, so Castle lets her go. But as Ryan talks, Castle shoots Kate a look. She takes a sip of coffee, and her eyes meet his briefly over the rim of her cup.

She smiles again, that arch, knowing smile that drives him crazy, makes him want to kiss all the secrets out of her. And he sits back in his chair, wondering how they've arrived at the point where he desperately wants to kiss her at work (well…that's not new) _and_ she sort of looks like she might actually let him (_that's_ new).

_I always wanted to know_

_what you'd look like_

_if you looked at me_

_and knew_

* * *

><p>He knows the date of her mother's death. Has for a few years. And this year, when it approaches, it's not really a surprise when she tells him gently, the day before, that she's taking a personal day tomorrow. Maybe it's surprising that she's telling him. But he doesn't grudge it.<p>

And though Castle wants nothing more than to hold her, he gives her space. He knows she goes to the grave in the morning, leaves flowers, and takes a long walk alone in the cemetery.

He's never been to Johanna's grave. He wants to go, if only to be close to the woman he's learned so much about, and desperately wishes he could have met, but this is Kate's mother and it's her choice. He thinks maybe someday she'll let him in this part of her life too.

So he spends the day at home, cooking, cleaning, pretending to write. He keeps his phone on, loud, and within arm's reach. Just in case. He's told her she only needs to call if she needs something. He can't help hoping the phone will ring. But when it finally does, and he almost trips over himself to answer it, it's just a friend from Black Pawn, inviting him out to get drinks tonight.

He turns him down. He doesn't have plans tonight, but – well, he might. And this is one day he wants to keep free. Just in case.

The buzzer at his door, then, comes as somewhat of a surprise that afternoon. Alexis is already home from school, and besides, why would she use the buzzer?

He opens the door to find Kate, who looks up at him with red-rimmed eyes, her face worn and sad, her hands stuffed in her pockets. She looks exhausted.

She swallows. "I'm sorry, I should've called – "

"No, Kate – no, please. Come in."

He gently pulls her inside, shutting the door behind her, and before he can open his mouth to ask if she wants something to eat or drink, suddenly she's wrapping her arms around his waist tentatively, her face pressed into his shoulder (he sometimes forgets she's shorter than he is).

He reacts without hesitation, pulling her tighter, wrapping his arms around her, running his hand over her hair gently. She's a little shaky, like she's been crying so much she's jittery, but she seems calm.

She doesn't normally let him touch her like this.

He whispers soft, meaningless comfort into her ear, rocking her gently until she calms down. She doesn't pull away, doesn't let go, just stays in the circle of his arms, her face pressed above his heart, breathing slowly. One of her hands absently traces circles on his back through his shirt.

"Thanks, Castle."

"Whatever you need," he breathes into her hair. Always. Forever.

_for as long_

_as we both_

_shall live_

* * *

><p>During their next case, he yanks her out of reach of a madman's baseball bat just in the nick of time. Castle thinks people should stop trying to kill Kate Beckett. It's doing nothing for his blood pressure.<p>

She doesn't seem shaken, grabbing the guy, cuffing him handily and letting the uniforms take him out. Of course, Kate Beckett probably wouldn't flinch in the face of a fighter squadron. She'd stare them down with that deadly I Do _Not _Have Time To Deal With This look of hers. And they would turn around.

He follows her out to the car quietly, lost in thought, and almost bumps into her when she stops, turns around. "Oh. Sorry."

Her lips quirk into a little smile, but she doesn't reply, but holds up her hand. In it are her keys.

It takes him a second to process what she's doing. "You're letting me drive?"

She shrugs. "If you don't mind. I'm a little out of it."

_if only you trusted me_

He accepts the keys obediently, watching in amazement as she crosses to the passenger's side and slides into the seat.

First time for everything.

* * *

><p>After a thorough and utterly fruitless canvass a week later, Castle's following her out of an apartment building, back to the car, when his phone rings.<p>

Odd. It's Alexis' school.

"Mr. Castle?"

"Yes?" His chest gets tight. Something's wrong. He knows something's wrong. Because the school wouldn't be calling. And it's not like Alexis gets into serious trouble. And there's something in the secretary's voice.

Without thinking, he puts a hand on Kate's arm. _Wait_. She stops, confused, but reads the worry in his face.

"Mr. Castle, there's no need to panic, but your daughter has had a medical situation and she's on her way to the hospital right now – "

His blood freezes, all the air whooshing out of his lungs. His hand on Kate's arm tightens, his fingers curling into her coat, and she puts a hand on his shoulder. "Alexis?" she whispers.

He nods, speaks into the phone. "Which hospital? I'm on my way."

Kate gets them to the emergency room twice as fast as he would've. The ride is silent; she keeps shooting him looks but doesn't say anything.

He all but sprints to the front desk, Kate on his heels. The nurse is agonizingly slow finding the file.

"Mr. Castle, your daughter passed out at school. The doctors are examining her right now, but apparently she came to on the way here and then collapsed again. If you'll wait over here, we can let you in to see her shortly." She hands him a clipboard. "This is the insurance paperwork. If you'll fill this out, we can get everything processed and get you in to see Miss Castle."

He needs to see his little girl. He needs to see her now. His brain is whirling with all the obscure illnesses he's ever heard of or read about or researched.

Kate takes his hand, leads him over to the chairs, and after watching him sit blankly for a moment, staring at the papers in his hands, she takes the clipboard from him, takes his wallet out of his pocket, finds his insurance card, and starts filling out his insurance information.

Kate's on the back of the insurance sheet when the nurse comes in and tells him he can see Alexis, who's awake, aware and much better now. He blinks, breathes again, looks back at Kate, but she just nods. "Go ahead. I'm almost done. I'll take care of it."

He can't use his phone in Alexis' room. "Can you – "

"I'll call your mother as soon as I finish here."

_you wear your heart around your throat_

_where it guards mine_

He swallows past the lump in his throat and bends to kiss her cheek gently. "Thanks."

Alexis is fine; when he walks into her room she smiles at him, pale but feeling better. The doctor tells him it looks like a virus, not enough sleep and not enough water. Castle kisses his daughter's forehead, wraps his arms around her to assure himself she's safe, and asks the nurse to tell the woman in the waiting room to come join them whenever she's ready.

* * *

><p>It's early evening on a clear night when his phone buzzes.<p>

_Are you busy?_

As if he could ever be too busy for her. _Not right now._

_Meet me at Lincoln Center in 20?_

Huh. New place. Then again, she could ask him to meet her at a landfill and he'd show up. With balloons. And maybe a confetti cannon.

(And a diamond ring, if he thought there was any chance she'd say _yes_.)

_I'll be sitting by the fountain in 15._

He's perched on the railing beside the glowing fountain in 11 minutes, not 15. The Met has a performance tonight, apparently; the huge windows are glowing, red and gold light spilling over the plaza, the chandeliers inside sparkling fiercely. It's a perfect night, the air crisp and cool, the square bustling with people – wealthy patrons in furs and diamonds, laughing students in pea coats and scarves.

He tosses a penny into the pool, watching the tidy _sploosh_ as it sinks, and he silently makes the same wish he's been making for about two years now.

"Hey."

He looks up to find her standing in front of him, eyes sparkling – they've been doing that a lot more recently – and he can't help but smile.

"You look beautiful."

She blushes and looks down. He's not usually so up-front about it, about how stunning he finds her. But it's not just the pretty dress, the stunning hair. She's glowing. She's unstoppable. She's glorious and smiling and elegant and a dozen other adjectives that haven't been invented yet. English doesn't work. He needs a whole new language to capture her. And even then it probably won't come close.

"Thank you." She comes to sit beside him, her knee brushing his, and the contact warms him, sends light racing through his bloodstream.

"So what's up?"

She bites her lip, and for a moment he is utterly distracted because he really doesn't notice much of anything else when she does that.

"I have a confession to make."

"You've done something bad?"

"I haven't been fair to you. And I'm sorry."

He's not sure what to say (_what are you talking about?_ and _you're so impossibly beautiful_ are his top two options but he can't choose), but the soft, grave, solemn look in her eyes holds him captive, keeps him from trying to brush it off. Whatever it is, it's serious. And she thinks it's important.

"Castle – Rick – " she tries out his name, like she's not sure, like it's new to her. He likes the way it sounds coming from her lips. Of course, he likes the way most things sound from her lips.

Her beautiful face is shadowed with sudden doubt, like she's not sure she wants to continue. Castle sets a hand on her arm gently. "Kate. Whatever it is, it's okay."

She meets his eyes, wide and a little frightened, and she searches his face for a moment before she seems to decide something. "Promise you'll hear me out."

He nods. "The chair recognizes the detective from Manhattan."

She smiles at that, the little smile where her lips are pressed together, like she's trying to hold it inside but failing miserably, her eyes sparkling. He loves this smile. His jokes are never really good enough to warrant it. Maybe that's why he loves it so much.

_I thought a smile was just a smile_

_until the day you turned yours toward me_

_and I forgot how to breathe_

She squeezes his hand, takes a breath, and reaches into her pocket. Pulls something out.

It takes him a second to see what she holds out to him.

A slim blue book.

Silver lettering.

_Alexander Beckett_.

He swears he feels his heart stop in his chest.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Kate sees the panic flare over his face. Her chest tightens. "Castle. Rick. Please. Listen to me. You promised you'd listen."

He won't look at her, but she keeps her hand on his arm. He honestly looks like he wants to run away. But there's nowhere else to go but forward at this point. And she needs him to understand. "I've read this book every single day since I found it. Every day. I think I've memorized it at this point."

He finally meets her eyes. She takes in a breath. He still looks wounded, but at least he's not stopping her, and after three years of him chasing her, right now it's her turn to be persistent. "I found it by accident. But I knew it was you. I knew it couldn't be anyone else."

He clenches his jaw for a moment before speaking. His voice is tight. Guarded. "Why didn't you say anything?"

She has to come clean.

"Because I was afraid." Her hands are shaking. She tightens her grip on the book, her talisman, her protector, her little reminder that she is loved. That she's not alone. The promise that he won't reject her. "I was so afraid I would lose you. I couldn't risk it. I can't lose you, Castle. I can't." She can feel her breath tightening, the panic seizing her chest. Because she honestly can't envision herself apart from him forever. The thought of him with someone else makes her chest hurt.

His eyes flash in realization as something hits him. His fingers clutch the fountain railing, and he leans against it. "The dedication – "

" – yes." Yes, she's read it. She reads it every morning. It wasn't really new to her anyway.

Castle studies her. The fountain lights cast shadows over his face, making his eyes darker, harder to read. "The day you got shot. You heard what I said."

It's not a question, but she answers it anyway. She's pretty sure he'd already suspected it for a while. "Yes."

"You remembered."

"It was the last thing I heard before I went under. And it's the first thing I remembered when I woke up."

Something flickers over his face, but he doesn't crack. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I – " the question knocks the wind out of her, and it takes her a moment and the echo of _The day you learn to love me will be the only day I will ever, ever need_ in her mind to answer. "I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready to hear it. And every time I thought of it, it's like I could feel the bullet in my chest again – " without thinking, she reaches for the scar, where she still sometimes feels a twinge – "and I couldn't get one memory away from the other. It was just too much."

He's watching her with a hint of worry, and she drops her hand from her chest, seeing the words _are you alright?_ hovering on his lips. But it's better than the alternative (not caring). He's infuriating and overly concerned but she wouldn't have him any other way.

And right now, she remembers the reason she took him back after he opened her mother's case. And there's something to be said for directness, right?

"Castle, I lied. I shouldn't have. I took the easy way out and I didn't even realize how much it hurt you. And – " she swallows, tracing her thumb over his name on the book's cover – "you wrote this beautiful thing. You made something so wonderful. I'm not sorry I found it. It helped me. It's your voice. Every time I read this book, it was like you were there with me. Telling me you loved me. Telling me you wouldn't leave." She smiles sadly. "Like a love letter I didn't deserve."

"Kate – "

If she lets him stop her, she'll never finish. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lied. I'm sorry I hurt you. I was – so wrapped up in everything that I didn't realize how it was affecting you."

He's staring at _Summer Dark_, his face unreadable, his eyes holding an intensity she's never seen before.

"Rick." It's easier to say his first name now. It tastes new. Intimate. But it's comfortable. And it makes him look at her. "Read the dedication. Please." She presses the book into his hands, curls his fingers around it.

He glances up at her, guarded hope in his eyes. "The dedication? – "

She holds his gaze, her heart hammering. But her voice is steady. "It wasn't finished. It needed an answer."

* * *

><p>It can't be. But the way she's looking at him –<p>

He opens the front cover, turns past the title page. His own words look up at him. The words he agonized over for two days.

_I hope you read this someday_

_when you're ready to know_

_that I will love you_

_always_.

There's a line beneath it now, in Kate's small, tidy handwriting.

_I am now_.

His breath catches in his throat, and there is absolutely no oxygen reaching his lungs right now because she _knows_ and she's looking at him like that and the words she's written –

"Castle." Her voice is soft, so quiet he can barely hear her. But he doesn't miss a word. "I love you too."

* * *

><p>The words are out and her whole mind, her whole body are buzzing, trembling, alive and warm and humming and waiting, fizzing like champagne is coursing through her veins, and if this is what it feels like to finally admit it, she's not surprised he's the one who said it first, because she's never been good at losing control.<p>

But one look and she knows it's okay. The utter joy and peace and love (_love)_ blossoming across his face are unmistakable. And it feels like the first time she's breathed since her eyes shut with the words _I love you Kate_ tracing dimly into the blackness around her.

Maybe she really hasn't opened them till now, after all.

* * *

><p>She loves him and he can't breathe and he wants this moment to last forever because she's beautiful and he's so happy and he's waited so long he'd started to wonder if it was hopeless but it's not because she's here and she's smiling and she <em>loves him<em> –

He needs to touch her.

He slides a hand to the back of her neck, his thumb slipping around her jaw as easily as if he's done it a thousand times – he's certainly thought about it that much – and her eyes flicker shut just before his do.

And then his mouth is on hers, her lips soft and delicate and warm under his, and his heart is pounding so hard she must be able to feel it too.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Shades of Jane Austen's _Persuasion_, anyone? I had this half-done and realized hey, it's Anne and Wentworth (kind of)!

As always, thanks for stopping by and keep on trucking.


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for your patience, and thanks for sticking with me, guys. I really appreciate it.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

He kisses her goodnight at her apartment door, a kiss that curls her toes and makes her eyes go starry and tempts her so very, very badly to ask him inside.

"Good night, Kate."

He smiles, kisses her forehead, and leaves before she can form a response, the words fading on her lips.

It takes her a while to fall asleep, and when she does, she dreams. She doesn't remember the details in the morning, but there's a vague impression of warmth, and softness, and gentle blue eyes and a giddy whirl of girlish excitement that leaves her waking up with her heart pounding. _Summer Dark_ is lying on her nightstand, and for the first time since she found it, she doesn't feel the aching need to read it again. Because hearing the words is so much better than reading them.

It's early, but she has to work today, so she peels herself out of bed to shower and get dressed.

She's pulling on her jacket, almost ready to head to the precinct, when there's a knock on her door. She opens it to find a tired-looking teenager, a yawning boy in a knit cap who holds out a white box. "Miss Beckett? Delivery from Alexander Beckett."

She takes the box with a smile, biting her lip as she opens it to find a little cluster of delicate blue morning glories. She carefully rubs one of the silky petals beween her fingers, finding the little white card tucked beside it.

_Good morning, Beautiful_.

* * *

><p>"Morning, Ryan. Any news?"<p>

Ryan grins at her. "Nothing. Castle's here, though. Actually, he wanted you to go to the break room."

"Hmm?"

Ryan shrugs. "I don't know. Just said to tell you he's in the break room."

She walks into the break room to find Castle leaning back against the cabinets patiently, his hands stuffed in his pockets. When he sees her, though, he brightens, a smile lighting up his face. "Good morning, Detective."

She can't help but smile back. Castle's happiness is infectious. Even though she hasn't had caffeine yet. "Morning, Castle. Ryan said you needed something?"

He nods, his face solemn, but his eyes are still dancing. Kate suddenly gets suspicious. "_What_ exactly did you need from me, Castle?"

He tugs the cord by the windows, drawing the blinds half-closed, just enough to shield them from the bullpen, and yeah, she has a pretty good idea what he wants.

He backs her up against the counter and kisses her, slipping his hands into her hair, drawing a pleased half-whimper from the back of her throat. She sighs in contentment, her head spinning as he nibbles lightly on her lips, his tongue tracing the outline of her mouth.

When he finally lets her go, it takes her a second to catch her breath, and she opens her eyes to see him smiling at her cheekily. "I really, _really_ needed your mouth just now."

"Did you now." She rolls her eyes, but he steals another kiss and she can't stop smiling. "So you had me come in here."

He shrugs. "I figured you didn't want me to kiss you in front of the entire precinct."

"Good thinking."

Castle beams at her. "I know. It's a _lot_ more fun to drag you into empty rooms and be secretive about it."

She attempts a disapproving look, but judging by the warm affection in his eyes, her 'glare' is ending up somewhere around 'gently adoring.'

(And oddly, it doesn't really bother her that much.)

She presses her lips together, narrows her eyes even though she's half laughing. "Better not try this too often, Mr. Castle."

"Or what, Detective? You'll punish me?" he teases, stepping towards her, boxing her in. His eyes are fixed on her mouth. A giddy rush starts tingling in her fingertips, her face flushing.

"I'll have you kicked out for inappropriate behavior."

She knows he doesn't buy it for a second. She's backed against the wall, and he grins, his gaze flicking to her mouth again as he invades her space, leaning in until he's sharing her breath, no space between them. "I wouldn't go."

"I'd make you."

His hand slips under the curve of her jaw, his fingers warm and light and adoring, his look reverent. "Kate. I'm never letting you go."

Before Kate can retort, his mouth is on hers again, effectively swallowing any words she might have come up with. Her hand curls around his arm, and by the time he lets her go, she's forgotten why she was going to stop him in the first place.

A noise from outside the break room reminds them of where they are, and they break apart breathlessly. She bites her lip, and he tries to lean in for another kiss but she presses a hand to his chest. "Castle. Castle, stop it. We're at work."

Castle tries a boyish pout, but she keeps her hand on his chest, gives him a resolute look. He sighs. "Oh, _fine_. Spoil all the fun."

Kate can't help but laugh, even as he moves away, because she's somewhat sure that this (playful, domestic kissing in the precinct kitchen) is exactly what he was hoping for since he asked her out, got turned down flat, and instead of taking _No_ for an answer, planned an entire series of novels just so he could hang around her.

He busies himself making coffee, and she can't help but wonder. Coffee. That hasn't changed. Banter. Neither has that. Innuendo – it's Castle. Innuendo is a given. The only difference now, really, is that she's letting him kiss her.

It's not nearly as scary as she'd always thought it would be.

He hands her a cup of coffee, piping hot and perfectly done, which she accepts gratefully.

"So what now, Castle?"

He seems to get that she's not just talking about coffee. She watches his brow furrow as he thinks.

"Well, I'd like to take you on a date. A proper date."

"Proper?"

He nods. "With flowers. And dinner. And wine. And pointless small talk. And you can fumble with your keys and I can awkwardly kiss you goodnight and everything."

Kate bites her lip, but she can't help smiling. "That actually sounds kind of nice."

* * *

><p>While she spends much of the day reading, not speaking, Castle pretends to busy himself with his phone. He's thinking. Thinking hard about the board in his office back home. About what he's been hiding from her.<p>

He doesn't know what to do.

He desperately wants to tell her the truth.

But he _must_ protect her. Her father begged him. Castle is not about to break a promise to a father. Not for this. Not when it means protecting the woman he's been in love with since – oh, hell, he doesn't have a clear memory of _not_ being in love with her.

By the time lunch rolls around and she pokes him to wake him up from his vacant stare, he's come to a decision: he's going to pause the investigation. With as little as he's figured out, it's not a huge setback. He won't risk this. He won't risk her.

It's not a perfect solution. He knows that. It's the least terrible in a series of terrible options. And he has no guarantee that it won't self-destruct. But it's all he's got.

And when she's ready, they'll solve it. Together.

* * *

><p>When he knocks on her door the next night, Kate opens it and watches, amused, as he sucks in a long breath and stumbles over his words in his haste to tell her she's beautiful, finally remembering to give her the vivid red roses he brought.<p>

She's pleasantly surprised to discover that for their first real date, Castle picks an elegant, understated, out-of-the-way Italian restaurant. Candlelight, soft music. No press, no crowds. Exactly what she wants.

He lets his hand linger just a few seconds too long on her shoulder when she leans over to slide into the limo.

As they begin their entrées, she slips off a shoe under the table and slides her bare foot lazily over his leg. He almost drops his fork, his head snapping up, his eyes dark and blazing with such blatant desire that she feels a flush spreading through her body, her cheeks burning. Because now she doesn't have to pretend she doesn't see it.

His hand falls naturally, easily to the small of her back as they leave the restaurant. Her breath catches, because his touch is so surprisingly firm, so possessive. He's telling the world she's his. And she is.

They slide into the backseat of the limo, the door shuts behind him, and it's only a few seconds and a single heated glance before they're on each other, all lips and tongues and hands and skin and hot breath and _oh God, oh God Castle, yes – _

The limo stops outside her building, and she reluctantly pulls her mouth away, panting, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she pulls her hands out from under his shirt. His eyes are hazy, glazed over, his mouth open, hair a mess, lipstick on his face and collar, tie askew. He looks perfect.

He looks delicious.

She leans into him, letting her lips just barely graze his ear, feeling the shiver that runs through his chest. "Do you want to come inside?"

* * *

><p>She holds his hand as the elevator goes up. He laces his fingers through hers, and she smiles, that adorable shy smile he loves (well, he loves them all), and he can't help himself, so he leans in, presses a lingering kiss at the base of her throat. She gasps, her fingers tightening reflexively around his, and he smiles, sucking lightly at her soft skin, drinking in the delicate heady scent of her perfume.<p>

Inside her apartment, she leads him down the hallway toward her bedroom, but he tugs her hand, pulling her back. She pauses, confused, and he takes the opportunity to pin her against the wall, threading his hands through her hair, kissing her slow, deep, his body pressed against hers, warm and flush and trembling. _Oh God, Oh God Kate Oh God_ –

Before she can catch a breath, he slips his arm under her knees, sweeping her off her feet, shifting her easily into his arms. She gasps in surprise, reaching around his neck to steady herself, mischievous delight in her eyes.

He steals one last kiss before walking the last few steps to her bedroom, carrying her inside, and kicking the door shut behind them.

* * *

><p>She wakes up early the next morning to find Castle softly kissing the bare skin of her shoulder. She smiles, eyes still closed. "Go back to sleep."<p>

He curls his arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her cheek before pulling her to his chest. "Love you."

She takes in a long breath, relief blossoming through her because she can say it back now.

"Love you too."

* * *

><p>A month later, after waiting on the sidewalk until it opens one morning, Castle walks into Tiffany's.<p>

END.


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